Games
by LittleTortillaDaddy
Summary: Nemu believes she knows how to play his game until he adds a new layer.


Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.

Pairing(s): Kurosutchi Mayuri/Kurosutchi Nemu.

Warning(s): choking, implied/referenced non-con.

Word Count: 700.

* * *

Mayuri neither asks, demands, nor hints what he wants. Nemu is simply expected to know the what, when, and intensity; a talent she prides herself on. It's a private talent for she lacks friends interested in hearing her brag, and Mayuri would surely punish her for sharing such secrets.

Nemu suspects everyone either knows his games or has an inkling of what games he plays with his experiments. No one searches for the details she records, though, preferring to pretend his games are just that.

No one asks her opinion, but their ignorance is healthy considering how far her talents extend: only she participates in these special games.

Today, his special game involves crawling under the desk. Their division smells like antiseptic, blood, mucus, and tears. Its a familiar smell, one which clings onto his clothing and skin and no longer bothers her senses.

No matter the smell, his skin is beautiful. Nemu pauses, her thumb poised against one of the veins, admiring the shiny pink tip. Mayuri continues typing up his reports, mumbling under his breath about this incompetent subordinate and that useless lieutenant from the other division. Nemu waits until he taps that extra long nail against the keyboard before she ducks forward.

For all his cruelty, his rules are simple: begin with the head and use hands as necessary. Reserve tickles from bangs only when he pushes her head downward. Her teeth are favored over the tongue, because scratches are better than little tickles. Any upsets will receive punishment.

Mayuri sighs and stretches his legs forward. His nail tapping grows more and more irritated. In a moment, he will bring his fist down on top of her head for giving such a mediocre performance. Nemu allows herself one final moment of admiration before she takes him into her mouth.

It does not matter how much or how well she washes him. His cock tastes like antiseptic, blood, mucus, and even tears. Others have placed him into their mouths. Others were fighters despite their sedatives, and attempted biting, gagging, or scratching until he became frustrated or tired with their fighting. It never works, though. A stranger fighting only makes it more enjoyable for him.

A stranger cannot – no will not ever replace her, though. Nemu inhales, closes her eyes, and accepts the tingling numbness which comes with the antiseptic. Remaining like this means it will begin burning. It will begin crawling down her throat and into her chest where it'll form another infection. A piece of her, which must come from him, asks she allow the infection, because it means extra attention and something akin to caring from him. A larger piece demands she begin their game.

Nemu inhales again, hollows her cheeks, and begins sucking on his head. Today, she has no time for formlaities. Today, her game will be quick and dirty.

Mayuri continues with his typing and presses his hips back against the chair. Feeling smug, she leans forward, allows her bangs to brush against his cock, and does not flinch when his hips snap forward. Mayuri sighs and rocks his hips forward again and again.

"I've no complaints over this new technique," he says. "You better prepare an excuse for Captain Unohana, though, when she asks what happened."

Nemu receives no further warning. Mayuri reaches down and wraps a hand around her throat but does not squeeze. His typing continues with his free hand albeit slower and she continues with their game. Bobbing her head up and down will be impossible with his firm grip, but she tries a different technique. Nemu relaxes her cheeks and allows them to throb for just a moment before she scrapes her teeth over the head.

Mayuri gives no warning. His grip moves from firm into crushing. No matter their lessons, no matter her formal training, she is entirely unprepared. her mouth gapes open. a string of drool runs from her lower lip onto his cock.

his eyes are blank. blood is beginning to gather underneath his nails. his cock bobs up and down between them. he scoffs, leans down, and kisses her gaping mouth. her hips buck forward, seeking relief that she already knows will never come.


End file.
